My Alpha Punished Me for His Luna’s Lies

The great hall smells like tension and old wood. I stand in the back row where Omegas belong, my spine pressed against the cold stone wall, trying to make myself invisible. Fifty wolves fill the space, all facing the raised platform where Stefan presides over the monthly pack meeting.

Harlow sits beside him in the Luna's chair—my chair—one hand draped protectively over her swollen belly. She's wearing cream silk that catches the firelight, looking every inch the perfect mate.

I focus on the floor and try to breathe through my mouth.

"Supply routes through the northern border remain secure," Beta Liam reports, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling. "No rogue activity for three weeks."

Stefan nods, his jaw tight. He's been rubbing his temples since the meeting started, and I can see the tension in his shoulders even from here. His wolf is close to the surface tonight—I can feel it in the air, that electric charge that makes my skin prickle.

Then Harlow gasps.

Every head turns toward her. She sways in her seat, one hand flying to her forehead, the other clutching her stomach. "I—I can't—"

"What's wrong?" Stefan's voice cracks like a whip. He's on his feet instantly, hands hovering over her.

"The smell." Harlow's voice is breathy, pained. "It's so sour. So bitter. Like jealousy and—" She gags delicately. "It's making me sick. The baby—"

Stefan's head snaps up, his eyes scanning the room. His nostrils flare as he inhales deeply, and I see the exact moment his gaze locks onto me.

My stomach drops.

"You." The word is a growl.

I don't move. Can't move.

Stefan stalks toward me, and the crowd parts like water. His eyes are wild, pupils blown wide, and there's something feral in the way he moves—something that makes my heart hammer against my ribs.

He's in front of me in seconds, and then his hand is around my throat, slamming me back against the wall. The impact knocks the air from my lungs. Stone bites into my shoulder blade, and I feel something pop.

"Your stench is poisoning my mate," he snarls, his face inches from mine. The Alpha Command in his voice makes my knees buckle, but his grip keeps me pinned upright. "Poisoning my heir."

I can't speak. Can't breathe. His fingers are iron bands around my windpipe.

"Stefan—" someone starts, but he cuts them off with a look.

"Get out." The Alpha tone rolls through the room like thunder. "Get out of this hall. Get out of my sight. If I smell you near the Luna again, I'll—"

He doesn't finish. Just releases me so suddenly I collapse to my knees, gasping.

I scramble up and run. Behind me, I hear Harlow's soft, satisfied sigh.

---

The library is supposed to be my refuge. No one comes here except me—the books are too old, too boring for wolves who prefer action to words. I'm on my hands and knees scrubbing the baseboards when I hear the footsteps.

Light. Quick. A child's gait.

I look up and find Jaxon Duncan watching me from the doorway. Harlow's son is ten years old, all sharp angles and cruel eyes. He's wearing an expensive jacket and a smirk that's pure poison.

"Hello, Omega," he says sweetly.

I sit back on my heels, keeping my voice neutral. "Jaxon. Shouldn't you be in lessons?"

"Shouldn't you be dead?" He steps into the room, and I see his hands start to shift—fingers elongating into claws, nails sharpening to points. His control is terrible, the shift incomplete and unstable.

"Your mother wouldn't like you shifting indoors," I say carefully, rising to my feet.

He laughs. "My mother says you're a disease. Says you should've been thrown out years ago."

I edge toward the door, but he moves to block me. Fast. Too fast.

"Where are you going?" His claws flex. "We're just playing."

"Jaxon—"

He lunges. I sidestep, and his claws rake across the bookshelf instead of my face. He snarls, frustrated, and then I see it—the silver lighter in his other hand.

Where did he get that?

He flicks it open. The flame dances between us.

"Hold still," he says, and there's something dead in his eyes. Something learned.

I try to move past him, but he's quicker. The flame touches my forearm, and pain explodes white-hot across my skin. I cry out and shove him away—not hard, just enough to break contact.

He stumbles backward and hits the floor.

Then he starts screaming.

"Help! She's hurting me! Help!"

The library door slams open. Stefan fills the doorway, his face twisted with rage.

Jaxon is sobbing now, real tears streaming down his face. "She burned me, Alpha! She tried to hurt me!"

I'm still clutching my arm, the smell of burned flesh making my stomach turn. "That's not—"

Stefan's hand connects with my face before I can finish. The slap echoes through the library. My head snaps to the side, and I taste blood.

"You dare touch the future Alpha?" His voice is deadly quiet.

I look up at him, my cheek throbbing. "He burned me. Look—"

Stefan glances at my arm—at the angry red welt already blistering—and dismisses it with a wave. "Puppy play. He's learning to control his shift."

"He had a lighter—"

"Enough." The Alpha Command slams into me like a physical force. "You will report to the training grounds. Outdoor labor. No coat. You'll work until I say you can stop."

Through the window, I can see the sky darkening. Rain clouds gathering.

"It's going to storm," I whisper.

Stefan's smile is cruel. "Then you'd better work fast."

He scoops Jaxon into his arms, murmuring comfort, and leaves me standing in the library with my burned arm and bleeding lip.

Outside, the first drops of rain begin to fall.